If Love is Blind
by tai-chi-leigh
Summary: "Although she's no poet, she wants to describe everything she's seeing, from the massive Christmas tree that blinks in front of them to the snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes." Featuring Percabeth and blind!Percy. Oneshot. Merry Christmas!


**A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, and happy holidays to everyone who doesn't! I hope this holiday season brings you all happiness and warmth. **

**_"If love is blind, then maybe a blind person that loves has a greater understanding of it." ~Criss Jami _**

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><p>Annabeth ducks under her work desk and blindly searches for her heels that she had, at some point during the day, forcefully thrown under her desk. She finds one and then the other and throws them on, twirling around to grab her jacket and scarf. Her feet throb painfully as they're once again crammed into the shoes that are entirely too uncomfortable to wear to work.<p>

She makes her way down the hall and toward the elevator, stopping at the last office on the right. Annabeth reaches a gloved hand to the door, gives a light knock, and enters before waiting for an answer.

Piper looks up from her computer and smiles, her teeth gleaming in the faded light coming from the desk lamp.

"Heading out for the night?" she asks, pushing back in her chair and crouching down to look for something under her desk. "Where the hell did I put my goddam heels?" she mutters to herself, and Annabeth laughs in sympathy.

"Yeah, my Christmas present to myself will be a good book and a glass of wine when I get home." Annabeth leans back to stretch out her aching back muscles— the result of staring, hunched over, at a computer screen the entire day.

Piper surfaces from below her desk, heels in hand and a frown on her face.

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

Annabeth nods. It's the truth, and it hadn't really bothered her until Piper pointed it out.

"That sucks."

Annabeth shrugs, the prospect of her relaxing evening at home suddenly seeming less enticing than it was just moments ago.

"I mean, Jason and I were going to go out for dinner… you can come with us if you want?" The offer is weak, and although Annabeth appreciates it, she'd rather not spend her Christmas evening being the third wheel.

"Shut up, and go enjoy the evening with your hot boyfriend," Annabeth jokes, rolling her eyes in an effort to be lighthearted.

Piper blushes slightly and appraises her, looking through the façade Annabeth puts on to see if she's truly upset.

"Fine. But we're going to find you a hot guy to kiss on New Year's Eve. Mark my words." Her arms wrap around Annabeth to give her a big hug, and this time Annabeth is the one blushing.

"No arguments here. Merry Christmas, you dork."

* * *

><p>The winter air bites her cheeks, and Annabeth pulls her scarf up tighter around her neck. Snow is falling lightly, the cold droplets kissing her skin in all the places she's not bundled up. She turns left out of her office and makes her way toward her apartment building.<p>

Although she's not really one for holiday music or shopping and she lacks the general _Christmas_ _spirit_, she does enjoy the holidays. Having grown up in California, she can't deny that the snow makes the New York City skyline seem a little more magical. She finds herself looking up at the buildings as she walks. The mixture of the flurry and the blinking Christmas lights reflects off of the windows in a kaleidoscope of color. Where a few minutes ago her mood was heavy, she finds herself smiling now.

Feeling slightly ambitious and a little hopeful, she makes a left where she should be making a right and walks toward the downtown glow. She's surprised to find that it's fairly crowded. Although it's almost dark and most people are in their apartments having Christmas dinner with their families, there are also lots of people on the streets.

Everyone is smiling and cheerful, and Annabeth can't help but feel better. The people she passes on the street wish her a merry Christmas, all too eager to spread the holiday joy.

She keeps walking until she reaches the Rockefeller Ice Rink. The line to get in is insane, and although she doesn't consider actually waiting her turn to skate alone, she finds herself enjoying just being part of the scene. Adults skate in circles, children in tow, and couples cling to each other, more for closeness than for warmth, Annabeth guesses.

An empty spot opens up on the side of the rink and she squeezes her way in. And it's okay, being alone, and being around so many other people who have someone close with them. She takes a deep breath, the snow and the tree and the skyline making the scene picturesque.

"It's really pretty, isn't it?" she breathes, more to herself than anyone. Her gloved hands cling to the outside of the ring like the view before her isn't real; like if she lets go it will all disappear.

The person next to her chuckles and turns toward her, his face aglow from the Christmas lights that dance on his cheeks and eyelids.

"I love Christmas time," he comments, turning back toward the skating rink and lifting his chin vaguely in the direction of the tree.

"Mhmm," she agrees, tilting her head to get an inconspicuous look at his eyes. They're the most brilliant shade of green she's ever seen— she swears they're brighter than the Christmas lights.

"It's beautiful," he continues, and she finds herself drawn to him, "everyone is so happy and it smells like peppermint and cinnamon and lemon— although that last one might just be you." His eyes are fixed ahead, but she sees the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. She's stunned into silence at his forwardness; she's not sure if she should say thanks or run away.

He turns to face her and he's blushing profusely. His face is so innocent and kind that Annabeth, on a whim, decides he's harmless. She smiles back at him to show that she's listening.

He frowns. "Are you still there, or did I scare you away?"

Annabeth cocks her head to the side. He's looking right at her. Does he mean metaphorically?

"Um... yeah. Still here." He heaves a sigh of relief at that, and she waves a hand in front of his face, but his eyes don't follow the motion. Which is when it dawns on her.

He's blind.

"You're blind," she points out, feeling immensely dumb as the words leave her mouth.

He laughs now, the sound warm and filling and comforting.

"Am I? Shit. I thought everyone was just making up this 'seeing' thing." His voice drips with sarcasm, but not the mean kind. His hands grip the skating rink next to hers and his shoulders are big and bulky underneath his coat.

She takes no shame in staring at him, now. He has a profound jawline and accentuated cheekbones. And his eyes. They're the most striking eyes she's ever seen. Warmth makes its way through her veins, to her stomach, and up to her chest, where it settles.

"Are you alone?" she asks, not quite sure about the logistics of how a blind person could make his way out of his apartment and through the massive crowd to the ice skating rink.

He nods. "Tragic, isn't it? My friend brought me here, then left to go ice-skating with his girlfriend. Leaves the blind man alone on Christmas." His voice is anything but bitter though; in fact, he seems amused.

Annabeth laughs. "I'm alone, too," she says, the similarity making her feel better, "but it's a nice evening to be outside. It's snowing."

"I know." His voice is hushed and his face enamored, like he's captivated by it all. It's hard for Annabeth to understand how he can be so good-humored, considering that he can't even see the most beautiful parts of the environment around him. The thought of living in darkness scares her, if she's being honest. As an architect, she relies on sight in order to make a living and perhaps, more importantly, to follow her dream of adding to the New York City skyline. She wonders how many dreams he's had to give up and how many he could never have to begin with.

"The Christmas lights are my favorite part," she finds herself saying. And although she's no poet, she wants to describe everything she's seeing, from the massive Christmas tree that blinks in front of them to the snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes. "The tree is beautiful, really big and bright. The whole ice-skating rink is shrouded in different colored lights from the tree, it's almost like the light is dancing on the ground."

She pauses, the words seeming stupid considering she's describing something he'll never experience. In fact, she's probably just making him sad. She glances over at him to find that his face is encouraging.

His Adam's apple bobs. "Go on."

She's more solemn now, the urgency gone. "It's even better with the snow falling. Families are together, couples are holding hands, everyone is happy. It's like— it's like they aren't worried about yesterday, or tomorrow, or the things they left behind or have to do. Their smiles are radiant, glowing. It's snowing, but it's warm and bright. It's like someone took a match and set this tiny part of the world ablaze."

He squints, wistful, like if he looks hard enough he'll be able to see it.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

The crowd surges and she's pushed up against him, her arm aligned with his, and it's quiet for a moment. Holiday music plays from some far-off speaker and the chatter and laughter of the people around them is incessant, but the volume seems dimmed. It's no longer like the whole world is going on around them and they're watching. Rather, it's like they're the world and everything else is the background.

"I'm Percy, by the way," he adds, reaching a hand in her general direction. She slips her hand into his and it fits perfectly. Which scares her. Her heart picks up rhythm and it's all a little overwhelming. There's no such thing as Christmas magic. She doesn't even believe in luck, or coincidences.

But she's grateful she didn't just go home tonight. She's grateful that she can spend this time with Percy.

"Annabeth."

He squeezes her hand before he lets go, and she can read every emotion in his eyes. Wonder, amusement, a tiny bit of sadness.

"That's a pretty name," he says, and Annabeth's stomach flips.

She lets out a laugh that sounds more like a hiccup. "You're quite forward, aren't you?" It doesn't bother her though, if her blush is any indication of how she feels.

He laughs, too. "I guess. But I've learned that being stagnant hasn't ever done me any good. I'm blind. I can't really hide in the shadows and wait around until someone catches my eye, if you know what I mean."

The lights reflect off his face and Annabeth resists the urge to brush his hair out of his face or to kiss the tip of his nose, which is bright and red from the cold.

She covers her face to hide the blush he'll never see.

The mood shifts back to light. "Please tell me I'm not flirting with an eighty year old woman or a man that has a high voice and smells like lemons."

His breath comes out in puffs that vaporize in the night air.

"Nope. I'm twenty-five. But I could be lying, couldn't I?"

"You could," he comments, his eyebrows rising. "If you're lying about your age to spend more time with me, then I don't blame you. I _am_ pretty charming."

Laughter racks through her body and she nudges him with her shoulder.

"You have no shame, do you?"

"None."

Annabeth gazes at the rink. A little girl slips and falls on the ice, before standing back up again and wiping the tears from her eyes. Her mother, Annabeth presumes, waits for her with outstretched arms.

"It's really not that bad, being blind," Percy remarks quickly after. Annabeth guesses he doesn't like silence much. "Just lonely sometimes. Which is why I like being around other people. Because when you're blind and it's quiet— yeah, you're really alone."

She nudges him in the shoulder harder this time, to let him know that she's there.

"Well, I like being alone on Christmas with you," she says, feeling a little bit brave and a little bit buzzed from the energy around her.

He reaches his hand out, towards her, until his gloved hand falls on top of hers.

"Is this you?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He seems relieved and when he speaks next, his voice is bashful.

"See, another good thing about being blind is that when you ask a girl out for hot chocolate, she's obligated to hold your hand to take you there."

His hand squeezes hers and she laces her fingers with him, pulling him gently toward her.

"I hate to disagree with your theory," she says, leaning in close so that her mouth is just inches from his ear. He smells faintly of peppermint. "But I'm not obligated to do anything. I would have done it anyway."

She turns around to pull Percy into the crowd, his smile so dazzling that the Christmas lights around them look dim in comparison.


End file.
